


build walls around the hurt

by eliotkeats



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, fibromyalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliotkeats/pseuds/eliotkeats
Summary: Kashaw and chronic pain.





	

There’s a dull throb in his hips, knees, ankles, wrists — and no amount of stretching or rotating the joints until bones grit and pop can relieve the ache. 

He digs his knuckles into the small of his back, grits his teeth as they encounter dense knots of muscle, presses down until the pain starts bleeding out, and counts — _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven_ — before releasing the pressure and shaking himself. It hurts like a mother, but for a few minutes, the pain fades, almost dull enough for him to ignore.

On bad days, the need to practically stand on tiptoe to drag a breath of air into his suffocating lungs makes pain splinter along his flanks. It feels like he’s taken a blow to his sternum, fragmented his rib cage to bone shards that dig in when he tries to breathe. So he holds his breath and measures out the seconds until his chest aches. Breathes shallow and cautious. Wash, rinse, repeat.   

He wakes from nights of fitful sleep with exhaustion hanging on his limbs, and keeps himself going through his day by virtue of sheer spite and stubbornness. Hunger is replaced by a chill he can’t shake, and when his hands begin to tremble, he hides them below the tabletop. Zahra passes him a full plate of food, silently, and he can’t bring himself to thank her beyond a nod.

On bad days — mostly — he keeps moving.  

* * *

“Old man,” Zahra says, fond, her hand settling like a firebrand at the base of his neck. Kash groans and drops his head at her touch. She squeezes gently, begins to rub circles into the long knotted muscles at the sides of his neck. Fingers braced against his shoulder, she skims her thumb across the muscles over his collarbone, digs into the hard, painful lumps just beneath his skin. Kash hisses in pain, but makes no attempt to pull away. Her hand radiates heat against his skin, and it helps. Gradually, his shoulders creep down from around his ears.  

“Come on,” Zahra says, tugging on his forearm. “I’ve run you a bath.” Her words are too loud — make him want to stuff his ears with raw cotton — and his clothes grate across his over-sensitive skin; he follows her anyway.  

She leaves him alone in the water closet, with steam rising from the full wooden tub. He fumbles buttons and laces free, slides into the hot water with a full body shudder. The heat spreads through his sore body, and Kash slips down until the water laps around his ear lobes. After a while, he begins to doze off, eyes heavy-lidded, limbs lighter and rusty joints looser than they’ve been in weeks. The bathwater grows cool around him.  

The door creaks open, bringing with it a gust of cold air that rouses him briefly. “Better, Kash?” Zahra asks. He hears the smile in her voice.

“I fucking _love_ you, Zee,” he says thickly, and gets a light laugh in response.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ pxrcyderolo


End file.
